


The Upper Hand

by greenripper (OracleGlass)



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M, Hatesex, Love/Hate, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/greenripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominic finally has the upper hand over Adelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Upper Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hauntedd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedd/gifts).



He had cornered her in Topher's office, and although she stood with her chin up, practically spitting defiance at him, he could see in her eyes that she was scared. His feet were bare, he had stubble and unkempt hair, and despite it all she noticed how incongruous the bland yoga pants and tank top worn by the Actives looked on him. Dolls were passive creatures, and he was anything but.

He smirked as he closed the distance between the two of them, and she reached behind her, fumbled the door open, and then realized she had nowhere else to go. She was in the room with the imprinting chair. The other door would be locked, at this time of night. Dead end, Adelle.

He stepped into her and pushed, and she staggered backwards, falling into the chair. Her fear could easily be read now, although she said nothing, refused to scream for help she knew would not be arriving.

Dominic's smirk looked positively toothy as he saw her face change when she landed in the chair. "Don't look so worried, Adelle. I don't want to turn you into anybody else. You're the one I want to hurt."

He slid a hand behind her head, pinning her in place, his thumb digging painfully into her cheek. Leaning in, he kissed her brutally, bruising her mouth under his, biting her lower lip and letting his tongue invade her mouth. Pulling back, he stared at her, and she glared back, panting softly, doing her best to remain mistress of a situation that had spun far out of her control.

"Why, Mr. Dominic," she rasped, "Had I know that this is what you wanted…all you had to do was ask."

"You knew, Adelle. But we're past that sort of game-playing now." He reached for her again, tore her lace blouse to reveal an even lacier bra underneath, elegant as all her things were. He popped the clasp of her bra deftly, bringing both hands up to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples, which were already hard pebbles in the cold air of the lab. While he was distracted with her breasts, she stripped him of his shirt and raked his back with her nails, all the way down to his ass, pushing his pants down as she did so.

"Bitch," he said calmly, and kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, one hand knotted in her hair while he shoved her skirt up with the other. She was, of course, wearing matching panties, a delicate scrap of lace that he ruthlessly pushed aside.

He slid into her, and she closed her legs around his narrow hips, urging him deeper, tighter against her. Against his ear, she murmured, "Have you been wanting this, Mr. Dominic? Did you dream about fucking me on my desk, about having me bent over and at your mercy?"

"You're never at anyone's mercy, Adelle." He found her clit with his thumb, pressed against it, and was rewarded with a startled moan. He found her rhythm, thrusting deeply, and in a few moments saw her as he never had before – completely unguarded as she arced backwards, lost in the depths of an orgasm that sent wave after wave of shudders through her. With a satisfied grunt, he let himself follow her, his come splashing against her thighs and belly and standing up in droplets against the rumpled mess of her skirt. Finally, his knees gave way, and he sagged downwards, splayed out half over her lap, half on the floor.

She caught her breath first, and he was startled to hear the vein of amusement in her voice as she spoke. "I feel as though I should have something witty to say, Mr. Dominic, but I have not. Congratulations. You have left me at a complete loss for words."

He looked up at her, still reeling. Even with her hair wildly mussed, a bruise forming on her cheek, her bra dangling comically from one of Topher's inexplicable machines, she had regained some semblance of self-possession. Putting his face against her damp thigh, he began to laugh, softly at first, then, as she slid a caressing hand through his hair, loud enough to ring out through the lab and bounce echoes back to him.


End file.
